Cod Almighty | Match Report
by Tony Butcher
24 February 2021
Grimsby Town 2 Crawley Town 1
In these chilly hours and minutes of uncertainty, where do you want to be? In the warm hold of your front room with a working iFollow pass as the wind whistled into the Pontoon.
First half – Over the wall we go
Crawley kicked off towards the Pontoon with the wind beneath their wings. Keystone coppery with a wahey-whoopsydaisy from Menayese, Nicholls flipped and Eastwood flopped.
I spy howling and growling as the redsters pumped and dumped over the Waterfall and Nicholls barrelled along, alone again, naturally. A bumble, a stumble and Eastwood clawed and pawed the laboured lob. And we reached the fourth minute with the house of straw still intact.
Are we human, or are we chancers? Morais marauding, the ball in the hoardings. A cunning Town corner pulled back and El-Miz sliced his cheese.
Town, as aimless as a leaf in a gale.
Here they come again. Wiggling and wriggling dink and the diving Tunnicliffe grazed over. Hugging and chugging, Mariner mugging and Nicholls nibbled over the top and wide. Or was it wide and over?
20 minutes of amateur beachball, what a pain for Payne, chasing rabbits and rainbows. A Town throw by the dug-outs, chucked into the mudlands in the midlands. Adams swung his pants and spun a pass in a flash to our Iberian import. Morais whistled, Morris sat down and begged for the forgiveness of his neighbours for allowing the shimmering skipper to slip through his non-grasp.
And back they came with a waddle and a quack with Town rather slack at the back. Eastwood finger-flapped a coiling free kick as three lurked beyond and behind.
Wright wiggled and writhed through static caravans to bobblingly poke across the face of goal. Retrieved and returned to the centre, Nadesan collided with Matate's feet and over the wall we go, for all coppers are nanas. Powell walloped the free kick and Eastwood may as well have caught the wind.
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street, footprints dressed in red.
Wind, wind, wind, it's a wind-wind situation for Creepy Crawlies. Down the left, up the right, Nicholls steered the cross back and off the bar it bounced. Up the left, down the right, wriggling Wright wafted and Eastwood saved.
Two minutes were added, long enough for Hewitt to slip after Matete mis-passed and Nicholls to baffle a baffle into the side netting.
Ah, the kindness of strangers.
Second half – Are we there yet?
Neither team made any changes at half time.
Where's the ball? There's the ball. Fly, fly, flying high against the sky, so high it almost touched the sky. Is it tomorrow or the end of time?
10 minutes of nonsense but Morais was on a mission. El-Miz flicked up and lobbed to no-one nowhere and simply set up a red wave as Matthews waltzed and Eastwood saved.
A free kick for what? Powell pummelled wayly over. Nice.
A pass! No, two! Matete was smothered by a big red duvet. A straight free kick by Hewitt, the pink stopper dropped and Waterfall slapped against Tilley. Oh yes, him, he used to wear our shirt occasionally. Neither he nor the Hess were of any consequence.
Half way through the half Hanson replaced the Ramblin' Rose as finally Payne had a partner in fighting crime. And what emerged? Jolting Joe Adams was booked for diving as a counter-attack died like a louse in a Russian's beard.
Town. Nope. Can't play with the wind, can't play against the wind.
And here they go again, with their running and shooting. Nicholls bounded away and Hewitt mud-slid to block after Meyanese's miss and mess in the middle.
Left-right-left, round and round and round and round and up and down and Eastwood saved a header. Right-left-right, they're down and out in Hubbard's Hills with a cross like that.
Hubbling and bubbling with a chip and chase and cross befuddling weedily off a red thigh. In the shadows of the Police Box Hewitt hurled, Hanson headed on and Adams flick-poked a backwards sloppy lob over many red eyes and ears and the ball pleasingly plopped into the net.
Ah. Substitute Coke for gin. Or Joe Adams. Is this the new Parslow Point?
OK, let's dig in for victory. Left-right-right-righter, let's keep it tighter. They're down, they're up, in and out and round again, twisting again and Coke dredged the Humber, ensuring safe passage for his fellow passengers.
Land ahoy! Powell dived into Waterfall and there was no penalty after much moanery and groanery.
Are we there yet?
Four minutes were added and in the third Bunney was boiled and hauled down his tormentor on the edge of area. Out came a second yellow and off he trudged. The free kick was pulled back to the unmarked Hesketh who guided a blistering blaster over angle of bar and post as monochrome mushrooms sprouted nearby.
Are we there yet?
And as the sixth minute of the four added neared, Hendrie blocked, the keeper roared up for the corner, a red head stooped and it was all over now, baby blue.
A wind is a wind.